


From A Distance

by BenevolentErrancy



Category: Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Angst, Emotional Hurt/Comfort, Gen, M/M, Misunderstandings, Secrets, Self-Doubt
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-03-31
Updated: 2019-03-31
Packaged: 2019-12-29 01:53:39
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 7,004
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18297896
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/BenevolentErrancy/pseuds/BenevolentErrancy
Summary: There was a distance.  Of place, of time, that Cole found himself staring across.  People were avoiding him, and he couldn't understand why.  Unless everyone else had realized something about him that he hadn't yet, unless the worst was coming to pass and people were hiding for a reason.Cole fears what he might be becoming.





	From A Distance

**Author's Note:**

> This was originally meant as a gift, but I don't think I ever actually posted it, so here it is, brushed off for AO3

“Ah. Hello, Cole.”

Cole looked down from where he was crouched on a carved counter top when Dorian walked in. Currently Cole was in the vast chambers under Skyhold, built into the mountain itself, where large bathing tubs were carved into the floor and enchanted dwarven piping lined the wall and ceiling, gleaming like strange, bronze lattice work. Cole came down here from time to time; people often enjoyed sitting in the dim light down here on their own, and the warm water from the baths seemed to shake fears and insecurities loose like clotted dirt, so it was an easy place to help knock those fears free and with the right word they may very well drain away like the rest of the grimy water. He came here less often though, now that it was not so easy to make people forget him – some people seemed to get angry if you sat too near them or spoke to them while they bathed.

Right now Cole wasn't here for people or their hurts, indeed it was late enough that most of the castle had settled down into a restless slumber. Instead, he was here for the mirrors.

Placing a basket of towels and clothes next to one of the empty tubs, Dorian asked, “So are you finally human enough to have developed a sense of vanity? What a marvelous day that would be, I can hardly imagine it. Can we be expecting to see you actually _bathe_ at some point soon?”

“No,” said Cole, “I was just looking.” He turned back to the mirror and tilted his head, opening his mouth wide so he could inspect the teeth inside. All still flat and white, like a human's.

“Like one of Leliana's ravens, how charming,” said Dorian. “Is this some sort of common nightly ritual I've happened to walk in on? I admit this is rather outside my own schedule but I found myself staying rather later than I intended in the library.”

“You want me to leave,” Cole said simply. “You wanted to be alone. I'm sorry.”

Dorian huffed. “You really must exercise restraint when digging about a person's head. Remember when I mentioned intent? I may be thinking it, but I didn't say it, and there is intent there. If you wish to stay and preen in the mirror, you are more than welcome – it would be a bit rich of me to scold you, seeing how I certainly am no stranger to it. I'll accept the company. Though if you would like some advice, I would recommend turning your attention from your tongue to you hair – it suffers terribly, crammed under that greasy hat as it always is. You might make something of it, if only you tried.”

“I _like_ my hat.”

“Yes, yes, believe me, we are _all_ aware of that.”

Returning to tub he'd claimed, Dorian began twisting the handles and prodding at the ancient enchantments around the bath that made water gush from the pipes, already heated and, interestingly enough, scented, though to this day no one had been able to figure out what exactly the scent was or why it was there. Dwarven plumbing such as this was quite common back home in Tevinter, though less musty and old and rather more reliable, but the Ferelden's here all seemed quite taken aback by it. No wonder the place smelt entirely of mud and dog. As he worked he could feel Cole's eyes on him but he let the boy be. It wasn't always to your benefit to ask him what he was thinking, because he had a nasty habit of thinking whatever _you_ were thinking and Dorian was by no means in the mood to confront his inner demons through the guise of an outer demon– no that was unkind even in jest: outer _spirit_. Regardless, after the week he's had, if Cole started spouting off about how these baths made him miss his homeland in the way of a person digging their fingers into an old bruise just to see if it was still there, he may very well attempt to drown the boy, hat and all, and then how would he explain _that_ to the Inquisitor? The man was unspeakably fond of their resident spirit after all and might not take to it.

“You're not running away from me,” said Cole, as Dorian shed his layers of clothes and lowered himself with an appreciative sigh into the water.

Now Dorian did meet Cole's gaze, rather baffled. “No, why would I?” said Dorian. “I thought we were all rather past that bit, aren't we? I figured by now the entire castle will have realized that the most sinister thing you tend to do is leave those half-bricks lying about to trip people up.”

“It's for the little girl with the hurt leg. She doesn't like doing the exercises the healers give her because they hurt, but she likes jumping on the bricks, she pretends she's Cassandra – it's helping make her strong again.”

“Hm, have you told the Seeker that? Well, it may help all it likes, but it's still turning the rest of our ankles. In any case, if it's not that, why, exactly, would you expect me to run off screaming like some sort of country rube?”

Cole fidgeted where he knelt, gaze no longer meeting Dorian's, lost beneath the hat, while his fingers twisted together. Just when Dorian was wondering if he'd get an answer at all, in a small voice, from deep beneath the hat, Cole said, “Because others _are_.”

“What, the rank and file? Is this because you're more...” He waved his hand vaguely, looking for the word. “Solid? They're remembering you? If it's getting to be a bother, tell Josephine and I'm sure she'll make it known in that terrifyingly discreet way of hers that they'd all better knock it off. Or Cullen, if it's the templars getting ruffled up by the spirit-thing. He'll crack the whip, he is quite good at that. Or, flames, if anyone has the Inquisitor's ear, it's you. Give the word to him and he'll shake the tower to bits looking for whoever has a problem with you.”

“It _is_ the Inquisitor,” said Cole, voice, if possible, even smaller.

“What is?”

“Who's running away from me. It's the Inquisitor.”

“What? Lavellan? Running away from _you_?” Dorian gave a snort. “My friend, sometimes it feels like if we didn't have that ridiculous nug of his to carry him away from you every once and a while we'd never get any world saving done. He _adores_ you.”

Cole smiled, still a remarkably new expression on Cole's face, and a rather shy little thing, like a bird, uncertain if it fits properly; but, like a bird, as quickly as it appeared it was gone. “It's... hard to tell, with him. Most people are obvious, sharp, prickly fear – strange boy, strange demon, a danger, a lie, _don't let him touch you, don't speak to him_. Or, sometimes... something warm and kind. A friend. But he's hard to see, too bright, blazing, filled with Fade and future and travesty that isn't his and is his. It's hard to see the small hurts under the all the world's hurts. But still, sometimes he feels... calmer, cheered, bright not because of the mark but because of _me_. Heart swelling and hurting but in the good way – love. I thought.

“But yesterday. He was speaking with Leliana, and I could feel her, hard like a knife hilt in dark, sharp but gleaming, hopeful... but then he saw me and he... ran. I thought maybe something was wrong, I couldn't tell, he was too bright, too far, but then it happened again and again. Broken conversations, hasty excuses, as soon as he sees me, people left behind him, I am left behind him. Leliana and Josephine too, they walk away, say they have work before I'm close enough to speak with them at all, say it with their eyes and shoulders and walk. I was behind Josephine, I wanted to say hi, to talk – she _likes_ to talk. Not just talk with nobles, though she likes that too, it's like a dance, with lots and lots of feet to step on and minds to hear, and it's hard but she's good at it and likes how it shimmers. But she also likes talk, like wine pouring sweet from a bottle before the cork pops and spills bitter and sharp. Too much talk bottles up and it makes it hard to hear your own talk inside yourself when you're filled with everyone else's. She doesn't need the other person to speak, just to hear, and I _like_ to hear. But this time I think I scared her. She jumped, and stumbled, words all mixed up like tangled cords, and she _wanted_ to be away from me. I... was not supposed to be there, and she was not supposed to be here with me, and she left. She was very polite, but also very fast.”

Cole peaked up from under his hat to give Dorian a doleful look.

“So I needed to check. And make sure I'm still _me_. Because... I wasn't before. In the Spire, when I didn't know how to be me and I was faded and smudged and dark like a shadow, lost like a shadow, but their eyes made me bright and real so I killed them. I _never_ want to be that again. But I don't know how I would tell. I'm pretty sure I looked like me even when I wasn't – if I didn't look like me, I think Rhys or Evangeline would have said. But how would the Inquisitor or Leliana or Josephine know otherwise? I thought... maybe I was changing, like _them_ who don't belong here and are hungry and selfish and cruel, and that would explain why people are running from me. Maybe, with all the human hurts... I'm becoming _wrong_ and haven't even noticed, it's hard to keep track of all the new feelings and pains.”

Dorian stared. Tried to make sense of it. And then tidily tried to bury the shot of panic that coursed through him when the thoughts of _demon_ and _I'm currently naked and without my staff_ overlapped. No point making Cole feel worse – besides it was _Cole_ , he hardly had anything to fear no matter what had gotten him so anxious.

“So,” he said, as evenly as possible, as if he and Cole were simply discussing whether or not one of the horse was off its feed, “you're here looking in the mirror to make sure you aren't, what, growing some sort of ghastly green tail or so claws or something?”

“Well... yes. But not a tail, I think I would see the tail even without the mirror, they're normally long. But I wanted to see if my teeth were pointy or if my skin was the wrong colour or if there were horns... though I'm not sure my hat word fit over horns.”

“And we couldn't have that,” Dorian agreed dryly. “Demons don't seem much taken with clothes, in all honesty, though that does beg the question of what the Fade has by way of fashion designers. Could you find yourself a demonic milliner to make a hat that would fit over demon horns? Then again perhaps you could just ask the Orlesians – they're rather besotted with horns and are half-way to demonic in any case, most of the time.”

When this didn't seem to help Cole's stricken expression in the slightest, Dorian sighed and dragged a wet hand through his hair. He just had to get straight into the bath, didn't he? He should have realized if Cole was here it would mean having a conversation he'd rather be wearing his smallclothes for. “Cole, to be perfectly honest I should rather think that if you're _worried_ about becoming a demon, it precludes you from being one.”

“Really?”

“Yes, entirely. Have you ever met some lumbering rage demon that considered taking an anger management class? No. Besides, I don't see a spot of fire on you. In any case, can't you just – and don't think I'm condoning this, but on a purely intellectual level – can't you just slip inside their heads and see what the problem is?”

Cole shook his head, or at least his hat flopped in such a way that it suggested that that was what he was doing. “It's... harder to hear now. I tried to listen, but they leave quickly, disappear into a sea of people and hurts and fears, and their thoughts are lost, one drop among many, and I can no longer see them, just feel the echo left like a bruise.”

“Hmph, how delightfully inconvenient. That could really be the title of our memoirs, you know, I should run that by Varric. Well, look, you know how the Inquisitor can be in any case, he has half the world hanging to his sleeves, begging him to fix their damn mess, and the other half accusing him of making the mess in the first place. He has a lot on his mind and a tendency to do strange things when driven to distraction. Same for Leliana and Josephine, they aren't half run off their feet. They _could_ very well just be busy. It makes more sense than them being scared of you. I would put it from your mind if I were you, and I'm sure things will go right back to normal.”

“I suppose,” said Cole, and Dorian didn't need mind reading abilities to tell that he was not at all convinced. But he did jump off the counter and walk towards the door up to the rest of the hold so hopefully he was at least convinced he wasn't about to go sprouting fangs. It would be fine, Dorian told himself as he sunk deeper into the water and grabbed at the soap. Neither love or money could keep the Inquisitor away from Cole for long, and surely whatever strange little hiccup this was, it would sort itself out soon enough.

-

Of course, it didn't.

Now, Iron Bull had heard this entire story from Dorian when he'd appeared in Bull's room, still wet and smelling like the baths. In most cases, he probably would have disregarded the majority of that particular conversation because it had come up, rather inopportunely, when he and Dorian had been busy with something else that had, ahem, _come up_ , a something else where Bull really didn't need to be thinking about Cole or demons or anything of that particular ilk, thanks. But the thing was, the story, indirectly, was brought up later the next day by the Inquisitor himself, though as Bull understood it he himself hadn't actually heard about the bathing chamber scene. Instead, the Inquisitor had let him in on a secret.

And so that was why Bull was currently sitting in the Herald's Rest having an internal crisis as Cole walked towards him. And having a crisis about having a crisis on top of that because _fuck_ he used to be Ben-Hassrath, he was a bloody _spy_ , but it was a little hard to be sneaky when the person you were sneaking around could _literally read minds_ , especially if it involved any sort of turmoil.

On the other hand, he's never gotten such good meditation practice as this, at forcefully emptying his mind until he felt like a comfortably safe, empty vessel, emotions pressed down and hidden, hopefully far enough down that even Cole wouldn't trip over them. Thank fuck his tama hadn't had the abilities Cole had or Bull would have gotten smacked around the horns even more often than he had while growing up for being restless during meditation.

Still, it was only thanks to Dorian's story that he didn't immediately just get up and quickly leave with the pretense of having something very important to do.

“Hey kid, what's with the long face? You're looking even more dour than usual, and that's a feat.”

“Are you scared of me, The Iron Bull?”

“Not particularly, no. Thought we'd gone over this, already. Why?”

Cole looked like he was about to answer, but then paused and gave Bull a considering look. “Can you wear hats, The Iron Bull?”

“Uh, what? Um, not usually, no. Believe it or not, hats aren't really all that popular in Par Vollen. We tend to poke a lot of holes in 'em. I mean, the Inquisitor did get me that _sick_ helmet, but normally we just stick to vitaar. Or like... headscarves, if we're talking civilians. I'll ask again: _why_?”

And, in true Cole fashion, he switched conversational tracks yet again. “You were thinking about running away from me when I first came in.”

 _Damn_ , he could tell? “What? Nah. I was thinking that I needed to find Krem 'cause the Inquisitor has another job for the Chargers to sort out, but that's about it. But it's cold as a Despair demon's ass out there and it doesn't have booze so I wasn't overly keen in leaving.”

Speaking of which, Bull was relieved to see Krem enter the tavern at that exact moment.

Cole furrowed his brow. “You were feeling guilty about thinking about getting away,” he said with certainty. “ _Weird kid, feels like kicking a nug, for the best though_ ,” he said, in a deep rumble that was meant to approximate Bull's.

Bull just kept a straight face and kept his breathing form changing. Meditation, he reminded himself. Become an empty vessel for the Qun to fill even though he wasn't a part of the damn Qun any longer; become a weapon to be handled, and release yourself. This is to silent the monster in your blood, this is to become a part of something greater. And for the love of Koslun or Andraste or that elfy tree shit Lavellan prays to _do not_ reveal anything else with your goddamn thoughts. He did, however, raise a hand in a rather nonchalant way to scratch at his horn. Anyone close to him, Cole included, would find it a familiar gesture – without horn balm, the base itched like a fucker. So it shouldn't stand out that he swiped a thumb along it in a way he never normally did. It would, however, mean something to Krem who'd done a double take when he saw Cole standing near Bull.

“ _What's_ for the best, The Iron Bull?”

“Nothing kid. I told you, I had Charger stuff on the brain, think you might be confusing something,” said Bull.

“Hey, Bull!” Krem bellowed over the noise of the tavern then, perfect timing, as usual. “There you are, ya big lug. I've been hunting everywhere for you! Think just cause you're the chief you can come here and slack off while the rest of us are working our fingers off?”

“And there it is,” said Bull, with a very good facsimile of a rueful smile. He stood up, and patted Cole on the head – would have ruffled his hair if it weren't for the hat, so he settled for basically engulfing his head with a massive hand. “Relax, kid, everything's fine. I _promise_.” If Cole was going to hear anything, then please let him at least hear the sincerity in Bull's voice. “Now, I gotta run before the boys burn something down.”

Bull had taken a couple long strides that had him nearly at the tavern's door, to Krem and safety, when he felt Cole's hand grab his wrist.

“The Iron Bull,” he said, voice soft and solemn. “You're scared of the monster you think lives burning in your blood, stalking in your shadow, of being a _thing_ not just in people's words but in your own mind. Rules were there to protect your and to protect others; you don't have that so you turn your body into a shield and pray you never turn it into a sword against those you care about. I wouldn't let you hurt anyone, The Iron Bull. Please, promise that if I ever turn back into a dagger in the dark, one-two-three, fast and sharp and lost, you won't let me hurt anyone.”

A shiver ran up Bull's spine as he understood what Cole was saying. He knew he'd said something similar to Cassandra – she'd mentioned as much months early (a year earlier, in fact) when Bull had brought up his concerns about having a demon in their midst.

“Kid, you're either way too far in your head or my head. I don't even carry a shield, that's more Cassandra and Blackwall's line of things. And I don't think we need to worry about you hurting anyone expect those Venatori bastards. I've got to run, but I think you need to go relax a bit. Everything gonna be okay.” Damn, never mind reading his mind, Bull was half tempted to turn into the worst spy ever and just straight up spill his boss's secrets. Instead Bull thought about Lavellan's face when he'd taken Bull aside, so he grit his teeth and continued on after Krem, leaving Cole behind in the tavern.

Damn, he felt like the world's biggest ass, and that was saying something since they were currently fighting the asshole who'd torn open the sky.

-

A day passed and Bull kept an eye on Cole. And things were not getting better. So with set shoulders, Bull tramped up the long stairs up to the Inquisitor's room.

“Hey, boss, you seen Cole recently?”

The Inquisitor looked up from his desk with tired eyes. Damn, the kid looked like shit. Lavellan generally looked tired these days, but didn't they all? Probably didn't help that they were in his room, with his bed an inviting few feet away – Bull didn't know how he managed to resist. Then again, that was why he was the boss, and Bull was the hedonistic hired muscle that could toss himself into his bed (preferably with a certain mage in tow) whenever he fancied.

“You been sleeping boss?”

“What? Oh. Not great actually.  It's been... quiet.” He cast his bed a look that Bull couldn't wholly decipher. “Uh, and, no, I've managed to avoid him so far.” He gave a rueful smile. “It hasn't been easy, but I've managed it.”

“Yeah, right, well, I have. Seen Cole, I mean.”

Lavellan sat up straighter, looking concerned. “He didn't–?”

“No. Well, I don't think so, hard to say with that kid sometimes but... yeah, no, definitely not. But look, I'm not _completely_ sure this is turning out the way you were hoping it would.”

Lavellan frowned. “How do you mean?”

“I think he's noticed that we're sort of avoiding him at this point. Trust him to suddenly realize it now, when normally it's him disappearing for days at a time...” Bull shrugged, a little helplessly. How did you explain that your resident spirit-cum-human was feeling lonely but didn't know how to explain he was lonely because he didn't understand the experience of loneliness in context to himself, and that it was all made worse by the apparent underlying fear that he was a sneeze away from turning into a terrifying, homicidal demon? So Bull settled on a shrug.

Lavellan groaned and buried his face in his hands. Yeah, the man needed to fucking nap. “I don't... Creators, fuck, are you sure? Damn, we're so close... Okay, Cassandra and Cullen will be back the day after tomorrow from a mission with a batch of new recruits, so I haven't had a chance to tell them about anything, so they won't be able to reveal anything. Maybe Cassandra can go speak with him. Actually, that'd be perfect, we'll need time to set up anyway. Do you think that'd help?”

“Couldn't hurt.” Probably.

“Okay. If you happen to see her when you head back down, could you send her my way?”

“Will do. I'll tell her to stop by first thing tomorrow morning.” At Lavellan's expression Bull just raised a challenging eyebrow. “I think it's time you went to sleep, boss.”

Lavellan just groaned and made the vague promise to get right on that, though he hadn't moved from his desk as Bull headed off towards the stairs.

-

“Hello, you were looking for me,” said Cole from where he was sitting among the crates in the tavern's attic, as Cassandra poked her head up from the stairwell.

“Is this really where you sleep?” asked Cassandra.

“Sometimes,” said Cole. “I don't really... sleep. But everyone else does, and there's not much to do at night. Varric says I should do it more now, but it's very boring. Everything is dark. Sometimes I sleep with the Inquisitor instead, and that's nice. Bed big and warm and soft, _better and worse than a hard bed in an aravel. Can't hear the clan, far away from everyone_ – he likes it when I'm there. I remind him people still exist while he's asleep. Or... he used to.” Cole's expression fell. “I haven't slept at all lately.”

“I don't know if I'm horrified or envious. Are you really okay going that long without sleeping?”

“Yes, I think so. I don't feel it, really.”

Cassandra floundered. _That's not what's bothering me_ , Cole didn't say, but Cassandra could hear it in ever dejected line of Cole's awkward body. _What_ was the Inquisitor thinking, asking her of all people to come speak with Cole? And when she didn't even know what it was that had happened. She was not the sort of person to put in charge of something like this, she wasn't... delicate. She did much better when she could charge headfirst at her problems, preferably with a sword raised. Maybe that was why _this_ was the best solution she had for filling the Inquisitor's strange, enigmatic request.

“Yes, well, I was actually hoping you could help me with something, Cole.”

Cole, Cassandra was relieved to see, perked up. Maybe this wouldn't be as hard as she'd feared.

( _“Cassandra, I need your help with Cole.”_  
“ _I was gone for a week, Inquisitor, what could you have possibly done in that time?”_  
“ _What makes you think I've done anything? Please, I can't tell you what's going on but could you possibly distract Cole? Just for a little bit today? I just need you to keep him away from the rotunda. Please.”  
_“ _Ugh. Very well, I'll see what I can do.”_ )

“While we had the recruits scouting in the lower foothills, we ran into a number of Red Templars that were using a different fighting technique than they normally do – more reliant on stealth and speed than the usual brute force they specialize in. It was quite unlike anything I'd normally expect from someone with templar training. Since this is also your preferred fighting method, I was hoping we could spar for a bit, so I can work out the best way to counter such a fighting method if we run into a similar group, and so I can then demonstrate it to the recruits.”

Instead of jumping upon the request though, while Cole was normally eager to help even when that help may, in Cassandra's experience, not be that welcome, he just stared at her. Brows creased in a frown as he studied her.

“There's a... gap, in your mind,” he said abruptly.

“I _beg_ your pardon?”

“A... hole. You know it's there, but you don't know the shape of it and it annoys you. _Just because he's the Andraste's Herald doesn't mean he needs to speak in riddles_. He told you to come here, but not why _he_ couldn't, and the hole opens wide and dark at your feet – will you fall in?”

Cole's wide, pale eyes bored into Cassandra's, and it took all her steadfast, Seeker training to keep herself from taking an involuntary step away from the unnerving intensity of it.

“Cole I did not come here for a... a philosophy lesson. And what the Inquisitor does and does not choose to share with me is none of your concern. I simply wish to know if you will help train with me.”

“ _Faith finds a friend in compassion, but it would become mired in despair_. I don't think that's a good idea,” he said, turning away.

Cassandra stared. She hadn't actually considered the fact that Cole might _refuse_. It wasn't even the sort of refusal she was used to, the sort you got from tired recruits who weren't use to military life – this wasn't obstinate it was... something else entirely. Cole was tucked in on himself, small. Scared? _Not a good idea_ , he said, but why?

“Cole...?”

“Please, I think you should leave me alone,” he said, not lifting his head from where it was pressed against his knees. “I think... I think it might not be safe.”

Cassandra started, and this time she did take a sharp step back, eyes honing in sharp on Cole. Not safe? It was easy at times to forget that Cole was a demon– a spirit. And a killer.

“I am going to go speak with the Inquisitor,” she said decisively. Cole didn't respond, and Cassandra didn't push it. She turned tail and fled back down into the warmth heart of the tavern and then out towards the hall.

-

Upon not finding the Inquisitor in the main hall, or in his room, or in Josephine's office (indeed, Josephine herself was missing, most unusual for her when there weren't distinguished guests around the hold that needed her personal attention), or in the undercroft working on some new terror with Dagna, she finally made her way towards the rotunda, recalling what he had said about keeping Cole away from it. _Why?_ What had happened that Cole needed to be kept at a distance, that the person sent to speak with him would have to be ignorant (and therefore, an unnerved voice in her head whisper, unable to reveal whatever secret was in motion), that Cole would consider himself too much of a _danger_ to train with Cassandra as they had many times in the past.

 _Demon_ , was what her mind whispered. Had something happened that made the friendly spirit persona finally slip? That the monster hidden beneath was slipping through? Was that what the... the _ritual_ or whatever it was that was being prepared in the rotunda for? Was that why she was the one sent to distract Cole, one of the few among them free of any chance of possession?

But that was an old way of thinking. That was the way she had thought when Cole had first arrived at Skyhold and she'd been warning the Inquisitor against letting him stay within their walls. A long year had passed since then and they had been through much. Did she truly believe Cole would change, so suddenly, just like that? That in the scant week she and Cullen were gone such an occurrence could strike?

No.

Without even thinking about it, her hand slid over her sword, reassuring her that it was still at her side and ready. What would she do if they were preparing some sort of ritual? Something to banish or destroy a demon? Or chain one? Would she allow herself to be complacent? Her mind trailed back to other, older conversations she'd had with Cole, about the Circle, and his life, and the complacency of templars. Would she allow even the Inquisitor to put such an order on her?

No.

Not without being wholly and personally convinced that there was no other options.

People in the hall scuttled aside as she came stomping through, path dead-set. She shoved open the rotunda door with a slam.

“What,” she demanded, “is going... on... in here...” She trailed off as she stared around at the shocked faces that met her.

“Shit, is the kid with you?” Varric demanded, craning his neck to look behind Cassandra, with all the concern of someone who was used to his friend being invisible on a semi-regular basis. In Varric's hand was a length of ribbon.

“I– no, he is not,” said Cassandra.

More coloured ribbon hung around the room, draping down from the rails of the library floor above, along with simple strings of leaves and berries, the sort one might expect in a cottage during a country celebration. The room itself was rearranged, with Solas' table cleared off for perhaps the first time Cassandra had ever seen it, and more tables had been moved inside. They were decorated with tablecloths, or at least the improvisation of table clothes, and a mismatch of vases all holding flowers – some that she knew grew readily in the harsh conditions of the Frostback, but others that she knew must have been gathered from the Inquisitor's own garden. There were even bundles of dried ones that must have been brought back from missions – there was a string of delicate crystal grace here, and bundle of dawn lotus, tied up in ribbons and hanging from ceiling above them there. Also among the tables were dishes of food and drink, as equally mismatched as the vases or tablecloths or flowers.

And it was full of more than tables and flowers, it seemed the entire Inner Circle was in here. Solas, Varric, Dorian, Bull, even Sera was sitting crossed legged up on the scaffolding, looking a little sullen with a bottle of something alcoholic in her hands, along with Josephine and Leliana, Blackwall...

“Inquisitor,” she said, “ _what_ is going on.”

“Uh,” was all the Inquisitor could manage, still looked flummoxed by her rather abrupt and aggressive entrance.

“Birthday party, for the kid,” said Varric, stepping forward. “Or, well, you know... as close to a birthday party as you can get for someone that just sort of _appeared_. And it's _supposed_ to be a surprise party, which is why you were supposed to be keeping him busy while we set up.”

“I didn't...” said Cassandra.

“Well, no,” agreed Varric. “Of course you didn't know. Do you know how hard it is to have a surprise party for someone who can _literally read minds_? We've been doing our best to avoid him for the past week just so we could _keep_ it a surprise.

She could strangle them. And based off the grimace Bull pulled, she wasn't the only one who'd realize exactly what a boneheaded idea this was, no matter how well-intentioned.

“So,” she said carefully, “Cole has _no idea_ why you have all been avoiding him for the past week?”

 _Now_ the expressions were beginning to look more uncomfortable, either because of her tone or because they were cottoning on.

“It _would_ rather ruin the surprise,” said Dorian, though with a resigned tone. “It is all for a good cause.”

The Inquisitor finally found his voice again. “It's just, we've celebrated everyone else's birthday. And Cole's always been there to help out.” That was true enough – Cole had a knack for thinking up good, if unsettling, gifts, even though he still seemed a little uncertain about the concept of birthday parties or gift-giving as a whole. His sort of gifts tended more towards the _slipped-into-your-bedroom-while-you-slept-unawares_ variety and less of the _bright-paper-and-calling-card_ variety.

With a carefully level voice, Cassandra said, “Inquisitor. If you're looking to give Cole a considerate gift, I might consider doing so by _going and talking to him right now_.”

“It's only been a few days, has it really been so bad?” Leliana said, brows raised. “I had people keep an eye on him, they didn't notice anything unusual.”

“ _Aww_ , fuck. Yeah, I was afraid this was all going to go down in flames. Damn. 'Cause you gotta ask yourself: how good are those agents of yours at detecting 'unusual'. You need to be pretty damn sensitive to tell where the line between normal-Cole and worryingly-unusual-Cole is, y'know, given that cheerful-Cole is when he's recounting the deaths of beloved pets and other charming things like that,” said Bull with a groan. “He seemed like a bit of a mess when we talked, but I was hoping it was just those human jitters of his, thought maybe he'd work them out...”

“I'll... I'll go find him, right away,” said the Inquisitor, nearly dropping the the vase he was holding in order to go do so.

Cassandra just groaned and stared at the gaggle of people left in the room. And then went to wrest Sera's bottle away from her because she needed a drink.

-

Lavellan made his way up to the Rest's attic, and there he found Cole. And, well, to be honest? It was a bit of a relief. When he had initial concocted his scheme, he'd never actually really thought about the fact that keeping it secret from Cole for a week – just long enough for everyone to report back from missions and for Lavellan to get food and decorations prepared – it would mean, well, keeping away from Cole _for a week_. It had all seemed like a much better idea when Varric had mentioned that he'd been talking to Cole and had realized that Cole didn't know what his birthday was. Or didn't even believe he had one. It had seemed like an obvious, and brilliant, idea to show Cole how important he was to everyone, to show how much he belonged here, by celebrating his arrival to the Inquisition. It had seemed like a better idea when he had brought it up to Josephine just over a week ago and she'd gotten excited about setting up a secret party, and when she'd mentioned it to Leliana, who'd seemed amused... or at least game to join in Josephine's fun.

When he'd seen Cole approaching him the first time and realized _he's going to know, he's going to know I'm up to something_ , was the first moment when Lavellan realized that, just maybe, this wouldn't be as fun as anticipated.

After the fifth time of thinking of something worth mentioning to Cole, only to look up and remember that Cole wasn't lingering around him, quiet and content, it had become a matter of sighing to himself, sucking it up, and getting on with his work.

Lavellan had never had such a long, restless, dull week. At least he'd had the warm excitement of a surprise to keep him going though. It was clear from a single look at Cole that it was not Lavellan who had had the least pleasant week. A fine gift to give indeed.

“Cole,” he said, meekly, though the spirit's head had already bobbed up as soon as Cole realized someone was ascending his stairs. Lavellan had no idea what to say next. Nothing seemed like enough. How had everything gone so wrong, how had he not noticed?

He needn't have been so worried about not finding the right words though, because Cole had always been the master had cutting through it all and seeing what was meant.

“You're upset,” said Cole, blinking owlishly at Lavellan, who continued to stand back. “Bright, burning, but smothered. Grief heavy, choking – guilt.”

“I'm sorry,” said Lavellan, “I think I made a mistake. We...” He took a breath. This wasn't how he had intended to reveal their surprise. “We wanted to throw you a party, Cole. A birthday party. ...Things got out of hand.”

“You're not scared,” Cole said suddenly. “No where. You aren't scared of me.”

“Never,” whispered Lavellan. “I shouldn't have let you think that. I didn't realize you were thinking that – of course I didn't, I wasn't around at all to realize. Creators, I'm an idiot.”

Then thick, fat tears burst down Cole's cheek.

“Cole!” Lavellan, sounded absolutely devastated. “Are you alright?”

“I – yes, I think. I don't know. I'm still not use to feeling things like this – big and real and hard to carry. Happiness, so full, so thick its choking, drowning hurt but hard to breathe around. Tension built to straining, then released, relief, but sharp like a whip's crack and painful. I... don't understand it all. But thank you.”

With a moment's hesitation, Lavellan moved forward and opened his arms to Cole, as if not entirely sure how he would respond. As if he needed wonder. After being taught about hugs, Cole reveled in them, and he fell into Lavellan's arms easily. Well, as easily as one could when he was about half a foot taller than the person he was attempting to hug, but his long arms looped around Lavellan and his head buried against his shoulder.

“I'm not sure you should be thanking me,” said Lavellan. “I think I messed this up. I'm so sorry Cole.”

“No, this is good. It wasn't. I didn't understand. But... I see it now. Hope and excitement, dazzling and blinding in your head – never had a birthday, never had a proper family, want to surprise him, but how to surprise someone who sees everything. You wanted me to be happy. But you didn't see the tangle and it tore. I do that too. It's okay, because you're trying to fix it now and that's what's important. I _am_ happy now.”

Lavellan gave a shaky smile. “I'm glad. Next year, no surprise party though, I'm guessing.”

Cole pulled back a bit, looking wide-eyed. “This happens again?”

“Well I mean... not exactly like this, obviously this didn't work out that well, but yeah, most people have a birthday every year. I mean, you can choose a different day if you like, but no one really knew when you appeared in Thedas or... uh, if you'd really want to celebrate that. But we figured, since it's been a year since you joined the Inquisition, that this would work.

“Oh,” said Cole, blinking.

“Why we go join the others? We've tried to find some of the foods you've enjoyed, and we have presents, and decorations. ...I think we've all been missing you too, I think everyone's pretty worried right now.”

Cole beamed back at him. “Yes, that would be good.”

 


End file.
